Surviving the Days

By Anonymous, Mandeville, LA

The author's comments:

everyone has to survive, has to live, how do you?
comment and feedback are greatly appreciated

This is how I have survived For days, weeks even, for the years I’ve been alive There are many methods one may try From Crying to Lying And even a hope that the floor likes blood, Just the first two out of these I have done, to myself. With the third, will not you help me please? Sadness seems to be in love with me, and misery loves it's company So won't you help me survive the days?

Many roads for one to choose But this is what I have done My own path Oh, what a path it is. It’s a path covered in thorns and overrun with flowers that no one can see. We can only see the few, Roots come, cracking through the ground Careful now, don’t trip The roots caused me to frown But the worst part was, and still is the cause, That part of the path has not yet run its course.

But enough about me and my life and my scene. This is for you, so that you can see Happiness here is a strange strange thing It flies and falls on cement wings The point of survival here is that Happiness needs some help Help to fly and soar and see The skies to which the other birds flee This is how I have survived the Days Give happiness a hand with it's mystrious ways.

Surviving the Days is a rough, hard thing These Days, those Days, new Days, old Days, The Days are hard to survive Does anyone know why? But recently it has occurred to me that we should not be surviving,

We should be living.

Days 01-07 A crying child sits in the corner of his room… How can he survive? Endure is a better word, And no one knows my little bird How did he just survive the Day The Day in which many would break away But he did. He endured. He survived. Hope maybe, This is how he has survived the Days Hope is his solution here Never lose hope, may it never disappear For when hope goes, all light does too They’re tied together You'll learn soon

Days 9 and 10 He’s too worried, too scared Too thoughtful, in despair He’s sad when he’s there But he’s sad here too Oh dear… He’s a good student and an alright son, A dream boy to you but an enemy to some, How could a boy like that hate himself? Ask him. He asks himself all the time.

How could he survive those Days? Destiny maybe? Faith? Love? Friends? Family? Oh, too many questions Spinning in his head like a hopeless injection Lied to me? How dare you? These are things he says in the mirror. How? Why? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Dizzy. Black. Awaken. Two years have slipped through his fingers.

Day 11 This day is…easier...and harder I have not survived this Day so far but…lived it. It’s now 3:23 pm and 10 seconds Getting closer and closer to midnight We’ll see what is yet to come.

Surviving the Days is hard, as it seems It will be easier with time, Because with time comes ease, Surviving the Days has become a talent, A skill, A power of will, An instinct, A reaction, It truly is tragic.

Living however, is everything...

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